Aggravation
by mentalagent13
Summary: He usually likes the size and feel of his living room, but not today. The walls close in around him. He feels suffocated by the sheer pointlessness of it all. Rated T for upcoming chapters.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **I came up with this idea in a moment of insanity. I have to say that each chapter will flip character viewpoints. It's just something I'm trying. It's a bit of an AU type, which I also don't normally delve into. I'm posting my 21st story on my 22nd birthday. So this is my birthday present to me I guess.

**Disclaimer:** As usual I own nothing pertaining to character or plot.

**Aggravation**

He walks to one side of the very small room. He usually likes the size and feel of his living room, but not today. The walls close in around him. He feels suffocated by the sheer pointlessness of it all. He reaches the opposite wall, pausing only to stare at the picture that hangs there. It's nothing special. Just a picture he had framed of him and Ziva at work. The corner of his mouth lifts a little as he does an about face.

He counts the number of times he crosses the room. He reaches number four before he admits to himself that he is pacing. Pacing is not a word that is supposed to exist in his dictionary. He is calm, cool, and collected. He waits to have a meltdown until after he has made sure that everyone else is on the upturn, to have a meltdown. It is something he has learned over an insurmountable amount of time. He just hopes it has not taken too much time.

His feet continue to work their way through the carpet. The woman downstairs will not appreciate his falling into her living room at three in the morning. Ziva's flight was initially supposed to have left at nine to take her to Europe. _Where_ in Europe is slipping his mind at the moment. Europe is safe. Israel is not.

The airport she was supposed to have left from is small. A private jet had been ordered by her father. Once she got to Europe she would have made her way onto a commercial flight, flying Coach. Without the layover she would have been back late that night. With the layover or a delay she would have been back early the next morning. Either way he was supposed to have picked her up from the airport. His mind calculates _32_ as he touches the wall just below the picture.

A brief vibration in his pocket brings his thoughts back to the present. He squints at the caller I.D. on his phone and immediately answers it. The voice is not the one he wants to hear, but he will take anything at the moment. He needs information, not stagnation.

"Boss?"

"Flight's been cancelled, DiNozzo. You have one in an hour at Dulles. Get there," he is told. An audible _click_ can be heard, cutting off his only communication for the last few hours. He stops in the middle of the room to run his fingers through his already disheveled hair. It's sticking up in places he would normally make sure that it stayed flat.

He turns and sets his face to convey a determined expression. He has a bag ready to go in the car. He runs to his room to pick up something for her. She will want something of his when he gets there. She has been gone for three weeks now. It is something that she will need, especially after the day she is currently having.

The airport looms in front of him in record time. He is the last person on the flight. His seat separates a couple. The wife looks worried about flying without the comfort of her husband. He smiles and tells her that he will switch seats with her. Both thank him as he moves. Of course, he is left sitting beside an obese man, who gives him a pudgy smile. Nothing helps. He inhales a deep, calming breath. The flight to London will take long enough without all the distractions.

**A/N:** Let me know what you think.


	2. The Beginning

**A/N: **Big thank you to everyone that reviewed the first chapter. I hope you like the second as well.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing pertaining to NCIS or it characters.

**The Beginning**

She walks through the door of the busy rural airport, fully prepared to go home. The heat she had once loved has become draining. The changing seasons in Washington D.C. are more comfortable than she had initially thought they would ever be. Right now it is January. She wants to feel the cold snow on her skin more than she can verbally convey. The constant sun on her skin reminds her of a summer she would rather forget.

She misses the people and the places she considers to be home. A relationship doomed and forbidden from the start has recently found a way to blossom. Her initial surprise has turned into a form of happiness she never thought possible. She hides her smile by looking down at the floor. In this place she is the respected daughter of the Director of Mossad. That position is one she did not volunteer for.

The man at the gate directs her to where she can check in her luggage. She laughs and holds up her bag. It is small enough to be a carry-on. She always takes disposables of as much as possible, so that on her return trips she does not have to worry about weight. Her trip to Israel her bag was just below the limit on weight and size. Now, it is small enough to easily fit inside the overhead compartment. Less worry once she gets home. It will get her to Tony faster.

She is the fastest person in the airport. She passes everyone as quickly as humanly possible while not drawing attention to herself. A few give her an odd look, but she ignores them. She is forced to come to a quick stop when a small girl drops her doll at Ziva's feet. The girl looks up at Ziva, fear in her gaze. Ziva gives the child a comforting smile and gets down on her knees to seem less threatening. The girl offers her a tentative smile in thanks as her mother verbally thanks Ziva.

An alarm echoes through the airport. The sound forces her mind back to years ago when she had been in a different place. It feels like a different lifetime. It had been a time that she would go running toward the danger and not consider the people in the building as people. Before, they were simply units she had to get out of the building. Today, they are families that could lose everything. It's not an option of _if _she can get them out, but _how_.

She can hear a mixture of Hebrew, English, and Arabic echo through the hallway. She tries to focus on the most frantic to calm them. If it becomes too chaotic, sheer devastation is easily attained. People will panic and full-on panic means danger and death. Irrational decisions will follow. Two raised voices can be heard over the din of rapid steps heading toward the exit. The men are arguing in rapid Hebrew about who gets to leave first. It doesn't matter; they both just need to get out of the building.

"Move along," she informs them curtly. No one has time for this, especially not here.

"Are you in charge?" one man sneers. She takes a calming breath to ease her features. She needs to look nonthreatening for this. It is much more difficult to get people to listen when she scares them. Gibbs has taught her when to use force and when to ask nicely.

"Move toward the exit quickly, please," she asks. She shows her NCIS badge before she thinks about the action. The men laugh. One of them has the audacity to poke fun at Americans. They do not look at the name that graces the badge. They will soon learn who they are talking to.

"Americans do not count," the second man tells her in perfect English. She grits her teeth.

"My name is Ziva David. Now. Leave," she tells them forcefully. They scurry away toward the nearest exit faster than she can blink. One man looks at her with more fear than she wants. She listens to the sound of the alarm once again. The men had been a momentary distraction. It has not been long enough since the last time she heard this warning. There is a bomb in the building somewhere. She cannot leave the building while there are people still at risk. A bomb squad may not get here in time to disarm it. She can…if she can find it.

Her bag hangs loosely in her hand. The knife she carries at all times made it through only because she was once associated with Mossad. The small private jet does not have as strict a policy as the normal airlines. In Munich she will have to speak with the air marshal in order to keep at least one weapon on her.

She turns to usher a few more people out of the building. It is a slow process. Some are fighting to get through the doorways. One man makes his way through the crowd and into the building. The figure walks with purpose and people move to give him space to weave through the ocean of bodies. Malachi sees her seconds after she sees him.

"Ziva?"

**A/N:** As usual let me know if you liked it or if you hated it. Thanks!


	3. The Flight

**A/N: **I am apologizing for how long the hiatus was with this story. I had a horribly busy semester at school. So, welcome back to those who ventured and hello to the new ones!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing pertaining to NCIS.

**The Flight**

He sprints through Heathrow faster than he has ever run before. He has to catch his next commercial flight to Frankfurt. His connection flight is in 30min. It will take at least that long to find the terminal he needs. He doesn't have to worry about luggage because he had the foresight to only bring a carry-on with him. One change of clothes is enough for him. Everything else in the bag is for her.

"DiNozzo!" he hears. He comes to a sudden stop. He glances around to see who might be talking to him, but recognizes no one. He doesn't have time for this.

"Agent Dinozzo, I have been assigned to take you to your next flight," an airport guard says as he approaches. The thick English accent makes Tony raise an eyebrow. The man laughs at Tony's expression and pulls out a badge from his pocket. "Agent Carter at your service, Agent DiNozzo," he introduces himself with a handshake.

"Your accent is terrible," Tony quips as he follows his fellow agent to the cart.

"It's supposed to be. I'm an American after all," the man chuckles as he starts the cart. They speed off using every trick Agent Carter knows. They make it to the terminal in record time. Agent Carter begins to bark into his radio, but Tony doesn't pay attention. He sprints to the gate as the attendant checks his ticket. She smiles and tells him the plane is waiting for him. He thanks her, waves at Agent Carter, and walks up the terminal.

The flight attendant frowns at him. He can see the tense lines on her face as she forces a smile. His seat is on the aisle next to a blue-eyed kid of about ten. The boy smiles at him as he sits down. He can't help it; he smiles back. The woman beside the boy talks to him in rapid German as the boy looks sheepish. Tony can tell from the tone the best thing he can do for the rest of the flight is ignore the boy beside him.

He lands in Frankfurt and has the opportunity to take his time walking to the car waiting for him. Agent Karlson is tapping his fingers on the steering wheel when Tony finally gets to him. Tony looks in the window of the black BMW, when Agent Karlson doesn't turn around he raps his knuckles against the glass. The window rolls down on cue.

"Get in," Agent Karlson says with a hint of annoyance. Almost as if he catches his mistake Agent Karlson winces. Tony ignores both the tone and the wince. Karlson is smart enough to not apologize.

"I'm taking you to Ramstein Air Force Base. You'll pick up a flight straight to Tel-Aviv from there. Get comfortable, it's going to be a long drive," Karlson says moments later. Tony grunts to affirm that he heard. His mind is elsewhere.

"Why Ramstein?" Tony finally asks. Agent Karlson looks over at him. Tony can see the apprehension in the man's eyes. Something happened, something bad has happened and Karlson doesn't want to tell him what it is. Tony sighs and closes his eyes to count to ten. He can't threaten the man that is driving him through the German countryside.

"There has been an unforeseen complication," Karlson says cryptically.

"What happened to her?" Tony asks barely leashing his concern.

"I don't know and even if I did I would not be at liberty to say, Agent DiNozzo. I know what you're going through. She's your partner. I get that," Karlson offers.

Tony laughs at the absurdity of that statement. Ziva isn't just his partner. She hasn't been for months. Gibbs has kept it hidden for them underneath mounds of paperwork and time apart at work. They figured it out faster than McGee thought could be possible. The solution? Easy. They simply did the same thing as before. Most of the flippant flirting takes place at work, while the more serious conversations are spoken behind closed doors. It works out well enough that much of the Navy Yard doesn't know they are together.

They arrive at Ramstien late that night. Karlson flashes his badge and drives onto the airfield. The car sputters to a stop as they both exit the vehicle. Tony grabs his bag from the back seat and follows Karlson into one of the waiting hangers. Unsurprisingly, there are three men waiting in the hanger.

"Agent DiNozzo, a situation has arisen in Israel. We have yet to get confirmation on the whereabouts of Agent David. You are going in to find her. From what I have gathered you are the best Agent to send in. Agent Gibbs will meet you in Israel a few hours after you land," he hears. He's staring into a computer screen. His face remains blank as Vance fills him in on the rest of the details. He nods because he is supposed to and they cut off the feed.

"Are you ready Agent DiNozzo?" the pilot asks. He doesn't hear him. He's already walking toward the plane.

**A/N:** Thoughts?


	4. The Reason

**A/N:** I hope you are enjoying this so far. I'm trying to make amends for the length of time this was on hiatus by updating more quickly.

**Disclaimer:** I still do not own NCIS.

**The Reason**

"What are you doing here?" Malachi asks. His demeanor is friendly as he greets her, taking extra care to not alert anyone who knows hin as to the apprehension rolling off of him in waves. Unfortunately, Ziva knows him too well.

"I was going home," she answers with a sweet smile. The terminal they are in is emptying quickly. Malachi nods and stares off to the side as he listens to whoever is on the other side of his ear piece. His face turns grim when he makes eye contact with her once again.

"It seems someone stumbled upon a bomb in one of the janitor's closets. We must search for more. You should leave, Ziva," he tells her easily. He starts to walk away, but turns to face her once again as her laugh sounds in his ears.

"You should know better, Malachi," she tells him. Her smile is a strained attempt at being civilized. Malachi nods. He is not going to stop her from helping with the search. She is capable of finding and disarming the weapon. She is also the Director's daughter. That is not something anyone in Mossad is willing to forget soon.

Ziva walks off to the left, following Malachi back toward the mass of people trying to get out of the airport quickly. They have to keep the masses calm while simultaneously searching for anyone that looks suspicious. She can see men and women scattered around the airport, looking in corners and behind unused doors. Ziva veers off to the left down a less-crowded employee hallway. There is only one other man searching the area. That in itself is a red flag.

She alerts Malachi with a simple flick of her wrist. It's a prearranged signal they used a few summers ago. It's a summer she would rather forget, but at least it was good for something. Fewer and fewer people are in the hallway. Those coming in are all part of Mossad. The man she has been watching turns around and grins at her as he raises his hand skyward.

She dives to the ground, covering her head with her hands. Malachi yells something that she can't hear just before a deafening _BOOM!_ invades her senses. The hall shakes and the lights flicker. She can feel debris raining down on her. Beside her a light crashes to the ground, shattering the bulb into millions of tiny shards. A few of them bite into her skin, while more rip at her clothing. She can feel the blood trickle from an unidentified wound down her forehead.

She uncovers her head seconds later and lifts it. Her heart pounds out a rhythm few could follow. Malachi is close behind her, unconscious. The man she had been following is nowhere to be found, at first. Taking a second look, she can see the motionless man on the ground, a few feet from where he stood only seconds ago; his skull no longer intact.

Voices that sound fuzzy reach her ears. Her vision begins to swim in front of her. She looks down to see a small puddle of blood. Even more is smeared where her head had been. She lifts a hand to feel her forehead, only to have her hand come away slick. She stares at it long enough for her brain to discern what it is. She wipes her hand off on the floor the best she can, but it only causes dust to settle on her hand and turn it white.

She can't remember anything after that.

**A/N: **If you have any thoughts I would love to read them.


	5. The Meeting

**A/N: **I needed this after the latest episode. No spoilers, I just needed to write something.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned NCIS we would not have to deal with all this heartbreak.

**The Meeting**

The plane lands in an air strip that is forever burned into his memory. This is the place where they left her all those many months ago. The pain is always fresh when he thinks about it. It's only recently that he has been able to let the edges heal. They say time heals all wounds; he thinks it's not time, but the people that heal you. He would still be stuck somewhere between guilt and depression if it hadn't been for everyone around him, especially her. She has the strange ability to give him strength when there is none. He is wishing he could lean on her a little when the black SUVs pull up to him.

Instead, he puts on his aviator sunglasses and steps off of the plane. He holds his bag in one hand, letting it dangle at his side. He looks over the top of his glasses when Eli David personally steps out of the first vehicle. It's not the person that bothers him, but the fact that Eli is driving. He sees that the director of Mossad is also trying to hide his concern; the flicker of the emotion is enough to make Tony sick to his stomach. This man never betrays his emotions unless there is a good reason to.

"Anthony," Eli greets him. He can only nod in return. Eli guides him to the SUV without a word. The back door behind the passenger is held open for him. Tony stares for an instant at the man holding the door open before he steps into the vehicle. Right now, he doesn't care how he gets to her as long as he gets there. If this is the fastest way, he'll take it.

Eli sits in the passenger seat, allowing the man that held the door open to drive. Tony stares out the window as the air strip gets farther and farther away from him. His mind drifts to the night before she left. The frown that had covered her face when she could no longer think of an excuse to stay had changed into a smile that lit her features until he shut the door, just because he had smiled and promised he would be waiting for her when she returned. Tony's attention is brought back to the present when Eli clears his throat.

"There has been a situation, Anthony. We do not know to what extent Ziva is involved," Eli says. Nothing more is said for a full minute. Tony grits his teeth with frustration. Ziva had requested they keep things quiet for a time; her father didn't need to know yet. Tony doesn't know how much Eli is aware of, so he has to tread carefully. Yet he can't keep listening to these cryptic fragments of nothing that will lead him nowhere. He needs information and he needs it now.

"What is the situation?" he asks, trying to hide his anger.

"There has been a bombing at the airport. We have not released any details to the media yet in hopes of catching the man behind the attack. It seems that Ziva is one of the people that has yet to be located," Eli says calmly. The lack of emotion in the man's voice is disconcerting.

"Wait, Ziva was there? And you don't know where she is?" Tony asks. He has to keep his voice from escalating in pitch. It's a miracle he's kept it at a semi normal volume. The man has no idea where his daughter is, and he sounds as though he is briefing Tony on a case.

"Her DNA was found at the scene," Eli answers. The elder man's voice quivers as he says it, but Tony doesn't hear it. He is too lost in the moment. The words echo around his head, becoming an aggravating reminder of all he has to lose. It's all he can hear. It's the only thing he thinks about.

"Take me to the hospital where they took the victims," he says suddenly. He has an idea. It may be a long shot, but he has an idea.


	6. The Reunion

**A/N: **My apologies on the lateness of this. School caught up to me way too quickly.

**Disclaimer:** I am not rich; therefore, there is no sane way I could own NCIS.

**The Reunion**

It's hard to breathe when she finally comes to her senses. There is a bright light above her shining into unwelcome eyes. She blinks to try to clear her foggy mind, but can't seem to get all the traces to leave. She groans quietly once her mind catches up to the fact that she is on pain medicine. She can forget pain for whatever amount of time she needs to. Pain medicine makes her reaction slow and her mind sluggish. Her hand goes to her forehead in frustration. Her fingers trace the stitches that piece together the cut above her eyebrow. She looks down at her arm to see staples securing the skin around a deep laceration. She stops looking once she reaches 10 bruises. The rest she can feel, but they are hidden by her clothing.

"Ah you are awake!" a nurse announces in Hebrew. She blankly stares at the woman. The nurse gives her a questioning look. Ziva mutters about the idiocy of medical staff and their ability to state the obvious in English. The nurse chuckles, "I know that language as well." Ziva glares.

"I would like to leave," Ziva says with as much steel as she can.

"That would not be a good idea. You have a concussion and we need to observe you for a few hours now that you are all stitched up. You caused a raucous back there. We had to sedate you before we could do anything," the nurse scolds. Ziva shrugs. It doesn't surprise her. The only time she didn't fight a doctor verbally or physically was the day Tony sat in a chair staring her down for the duration of the appointment. She only had a minor concussion that day, but his reasoning had been fool-proof. She has made him go to the doctor for a cough that was around too long for her liking two weeks before that.

"I can sign myself out," Ziva tells the nurse only partially civilly.

"No you cannot. We have no one to release you to. Hospital rules that anyone with a concussion has to be released into someone else's custody or stay overnight," the nurse explains in Hebrew. Ziva is forced to respond in the same language. It feels foreign on her tongue. She has not spoken it in months. Most of her spare time is spent with a man that has barely mastered _his_ native language.

"Ziva?" she hears her name called from somewhere close by. She can't quite distinguish from where because of all the noise. Her eyes wish to scan more of the room, but it is blocked by the curtain. Snarling she stands, much to the nurse's dislike, and pulls the curtain aside. Ziva whips the curtain to the side the screeching of metal on metal announcing the movement to those around her.

She sees him before he sees her. He is on his phone with his back turned to her. His body language screams how stressed he is. He is fighting to keep his worry and panic at bay. The nurse is babbling about something in the background, but she can't hear it. Her mind is focused on him; on seeing him. A thought strikes her like a lightning bolt. If he is here, how long has she been unconscious? She turns to face the nurse too quickly and her head swims. She almost hits the ground, but is caught at the last second. The nurse hasn't moved.

She looks up. In her mind he never should have been able to cross the crowded room fast enough to catch her. He's athletic, but not fast. Yet, her body could not betray her. It recognizes his touch. There is something about it that is comforting. It is safe. It is constant. She leans back against him and closes her eyes to stop the world from swimming. He needs to have two eyes, not six.

"How long?" she hears him whisper to the nurse once she is safely back in the uncomfortable hospital cot. The Emergency room is still too noisy for her liking. She berates herself for being selfish once her mind finds it convenient to remember the bombing.

"I'm sorry sir, but if you'll follow me I'll show you to the waiting room," the nurse tells him in Hebrew. Ziva almost laughs at Tony's expression.

"English," Ziva says thickly. The nurse repeats herself in English.

"I'm Tony DiNozzo," Tony says simply. Ziva manages to raise an eyebrow at him. He has no sway here. No one knows who he is. How does he expect his to get him anything?

"24 hours. We had to sedate her to stitch her up. Also, we couldn't have her moving too much before we found out the extent of the head injury," the nurse tells him. Ziva's eyes widen slightly in shock. The nurse leaves after she slides the curtains back in place.

"How? Why?" she asks. Tony chuckles.

"Apparently you wanted me a lot in the past 24 hours," he smirks. She sinks back into the bed staring at the uninteresting ceiling.


	7. The Homecoming

**A/N:** This is the final installment. I can't believe I have neglected you so. Those that read this last chapter after waiting more than a year for it I commend you greatly. Thank you to everyone that has read and reviewed before. Even though my following is small, I appreciate every one of you.

**Disclaimer: **Still isn't mine.

**The Homecoming**

He sits and he waits in a room full of people hoping for the best. He's already heard the scenario he needs to hear and silently wishes for these anxious faces to feel the happiness that comes with relief. Ziva is seeing the doctor that will sign off on her health. As soon as she is given the bill of good health they are going home. No more sand. No more heat and hopefully no more bombs. They have seen enough bombs in their lifetime.

The hard plastic chair he currently occupies sends a reminder of how long he has been here up his back. Another jolt of pain follows the first and a walk becomes imperative. His knees creak in tune with the chair as he begs his body to stand vertical. The stress of the past few weeks is really beginning to get to him. His hands find a hold behind his back as he stretches some of the pain away. A soft laugh greets him as he winces.

"Have you been sitting here the entire time, Tony?" Ziva asks him. He nods and she shakes her head. He can tell that it doesn't surprise her, but she also does not approve. He is not as young as he used to be. It's something she rarely comments about. He is thankful for that.

"Are you all set?" he asks simply to get the concern out of her eyes. She nods. He eyes brighten just a little at the prospect of being able to finally go home. Her constant movement over the past two weeks proves it. She can't seem to settle down no matter how safe Eli assures her she is in her childhood home. There is something about that place that sets her on edge. Tony is unable to figure out exactly what that something might be. It frustrates him, but it is an argument for another day.

"Yes, the doctor signed the paper. I do not think she wanted to, though," Ziva says with a shrug. He chuckles and then laughs at her bewildered expression. "I do not think this is funny, Tony," she chides.

"No, but only you could find a way to make a doctor sign off on good health even if you should stay for a few more days," he answers easily.

"I do not need to stay here any longer. It is only a concussion," she states firmly. He knows that is probably the same attitude she pulled with the doctor. He isn't sure how thorough her medical record is in Israel. There may be a few details omitted. The thought sobers him slightly. She has been through so much in her life, yet still finds a way to smile every now and then.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he jumps slightly. She covers her mouth with her hand to hide the small smile he put there. He'll hear about the fact that a little 'vibration' makes him jump, but he'll deal with that when it comes. The caller I.D. shows that Gibbs wants his attention and Gibbs always gets what he wants.

"Boss? Yeah, she got a the ok. This afternoon? Yeah, we'll be there," he tells the man on the other end. Ziva raises an eyebrow waiting for the details she is sure to hear. He takes his time putting his phone back into its case making her wait those few extra seconds. Anything he can hold over her head is useful, even if it's only for a few precious seconds. Patience is not a virtue to Ziva.

"Tony!' she berates a bit too loudly. A few heads turn to stare at them from those uncomfortable plastic chairs. He ushers her out the door quickly. An angry Ziva doesn't stay funny for long.

"Our flight back leaves this afternoon. We'll make a stop in London to take a commercial flight the rest of the way to D.C. We have the option to stop at any friendly naval base on the way to London if the need should arise," he tells her calmly. She snorts in response.

"I will not need to stop," she says a moment later.

"Maybe not, but the option is there," he reminds her gently. Her expression softens marginally. He takes what he can get. Here in the desert it is harder for her to show him any type of emotion. There is something in the air that brings out a much more hidden Ziva. She falls back into a mode that took years to escape. He is hoping beyond hope that once they reach American soil she will let her walls fall once again.

Thankfully, they don't have to make a stop anywhere except London. The hotel they stay in is right off of the airport. He wants to sleep, but she insists they go sightseeing. After all, they don't get to go to London very often.

She finds a quaint little restaurant hidden in a backstreet for them to eat at. She orders without looking at the menu as though she has been there many times before. The night reveals that she has in fact been there before in a different lifetime. She tells story after story reminiscing about past friendships and places that brought her joy. He tries to pay attention, but his mind flashes to things that might have been lost only weeks ago.

She had gone home to see her father. Their relationship was getting better, but being the powerful man that he is, Eli couldn't leave Israel to visit family. She decided to go one day they had been caught in a rather eventful firefight. He remembers her telling him she would be leaving for three weeks to visit her father…alone. He argued that he should accompany her. They were publicly together with (miraculously) the boss's approval. Him going with her seemed to be the best option. She had disagreed.

Her point made sense. It really did, he just didn't want to believe it. Eli had never actually taken a liking to Tony. In fact, it was rumored that Eli still _disliked_ him. For this reason, Ziva did not want to risk taking him with her. He would only cause tension between her and her father. Their relationship was still a little rocky. She wanted to mend her relationship with her father more before she forced a disliked man in his face.

Then he got the call that something had happened near where she was. He waited to hear if her flight was in the air. Gibbs voice echoes through his mind _"Flights been canceled"_. The roller coaster of emotions the past weeks were finally winding down. He had her back. She was safe, other than a bump to the head. Of course, Ziva has a very hard head at times.

"What are you thinking about, Tony?" her voice whispers in his ear. He hadn't even noticed her get up. Her hands are on his shoulders, while she stands behind him. He tilts his head back to look at her more closely. The remnants of bruising dot her forehead, hands, and what little bit of her collarbone he can see. The greenish yellow color makes her look sick.

"I am fine, Tony," she reassures him with a squeeze to his shoulders. He smiles in return. Trust her to know what he is thinking without him speaking.

Home is a word he will never take for granted again when they step off the plane at Reagan International. Everyone is waiting for them at the bag check. Gibbs is holding Ziva's bag and McGee conveniently has his. He is sure Gibbs used his badge to get past all of the security blocking him from meeting them. He is very thankful for that. He reaches to take his bag from McGee.

"I got it, Tony," McGee tells him and moves his hand away from Tony's fingers. The older agent smiles his thanks. Gibbs will carry Ziva's bag out to the car. She is still restricted to only lifting up to a gallon of milk. That was an easy battle. Getting her to check her bag was another battle all together. It took quite a bit of pleading to finally have her put it underneath the plane. He's good, but he can't carry everything on and off the plane.

"Ziva, I'm so glad you're safe," Abbey whispers to Ziva after a bone crushing hug is delivered. He doesn't escape. Abbey is in his arms directly after she leaves Ziva's. He smiles as he returns Abbey's prominent show of affection. There are some things that can never be replaced. Abbey's rib-cracking hugs are one of them.

"Let's go," Gibbs announce a short time later. Keys fly into the air. Tony is too jet lagged to notice until Ziva's hand appears in front of his face.

"Does this mean I get to drive?" she asks. It's too late by the time he realizes she is holding the keys to his Mustang.

**A/N:** I hope you enjoyed this ending. I know that it took a long time, but I hope it satisfied some of you. Any errors are mine even though I tried to catch them. If there are any very obvious ones please let me know so I can fix them post haste.


End file.
